


Look at the Stars

by garconne



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Love, Romance, Romantic Angst, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garconne/pseuds/garconne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and Sif are forced to live out one mortal lifetime on Earth. There, as coworkers in a New York office, the two of them are merely acquaintances. What starts as a sexy fling quickly grows into an unexpectedly ardent and ultimately tragic romance. The experience proves too powerful to shake, even upon return to Asgard, where they can't help but see each other in a new light.</p><p>  <b>Warning for an AU death scene.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Did you think you could impersonate me on the throne and face no consequence?” Odin spat at Loki, who stood before him. 

“So throw me back in my cell to rot. That’s where you want me, isn’t it? Stop wasting time with your idle threats.” 

Just then, Thor and Sif appeared, hurrying over to the throne. 

“Father,” Thor said. 

“What have you to say to me, my son who gave up the throne for _Midgard_?” 

“Father, please. I returned when Lady Sif was kind enough to bring me word that my brother was alive.” 

Thor glanced over at Loki, who watched him with a vague curiosity. 

“I know what Loki has done cannot go unpunished, but what you’re proposing is madness.” 

“Is it? IS IT?” Odin yelled again. “Perhaps it is only madness that will get through to him, to the lot of you!” 

He turned away from them with a dismissive wave of his hand. Sif anxiously looked at each of them, but none looked to her. 

“Do you know this curse was Frigga’s idea?” Odin said in an unsettlingly calm tone, facing them again. 

“She wanted it for YOU instead of the cell,” he said, pointing at Loki. “As usual, I should have listened.” 

Loki gave no response. Odin nodded thoughtfully and grinned, looking over each of them. 

“One mortal lifetime. Yes, I see it quite fitting for all three of you.” 

“What? No! What have I done?” Sif protested. 

“Father, please, take some time to think!” Thor pleaded. 

But it was too late. Odin’s magic took hold of them, and there was no escaping it.


	2. Work Some Magic

“Are you alright?” 

Jaimie looked up from her cell phone to see her intern, Mikayla, holding the glass of wine she’d asked for. The company holiday party was just beginning, but she already desperately needed the refreshment. 

“Yeah, thank you,” she said, taking the glass. 

“I think they’re having a problem with the slideshow?” Mikayla added. 

“Of course they are,” Jaimie said, rolling her eyes and following her to the next room, where a few other people from the office were setting up a laptop and projector. 

Jaimie moved around the table and looked. They had plugged in a flash drive, but the file wouldn’t open. Impatient, she scanned the room for someone who could fix the problem. The IT guy was nowhere to be seen, but near the bar she spotted Tom, a guy from...data entry? He looked nerdy enough to help. 

“Hey,” she said, waving him over. “Could you work some magic over here?” 

For a split second, Tom thought she might be talking to someone else, and then realized she was looking directly at him. He could hardly ignore a senior vice president’s request for help. 

“Oh, certainly,” he said, coming over and looking at the computer. 

“It wouldn’t be a corporate party without tech problems, right?” Jaimie joked. 

“Why is this folder zipped?” said Tom with a laugh, hitting the unzip option. “There you have it.” 

The presentation came up without issue. 

“Oh, yay!” said Mikayla. 

“Thank you,” Jaimie said to Tom with a hint of exasperation. 

“No problem.” 

“Oh, excuse me,” she said as her phone buzzed and she answered it, walking away. “Hello? No. Absolutely not. That’s - no, are you hearing me? That won’t work.” 

Tom watched her go. Everyone in the office knew Jaimie, but this was his longest interaction with her in nearly a year. 

Later, Jaimie mingled through the crowd, her second glass of wine in hand, and she was glad that the venue’s private party room was nice, at least. It was well-decorated, with beautiful fabrics covering the walls, dim lighting, large sofas, and plenty of places for the employees to sit and chat. By some miracle, the slideshow had been successful, and she was actually enjoying herself. Just then, she was startled by a telltale crash that meant someone had dropped dishes. She rolled her eyes as she whirled around, and then she was surprised to see Tom again, helping a caterer gather silverware onto a tray. Jaimie watched them for a moment and saw him smile politely and pat the woman’s shoulder when they’d finished. Jaimie smiled to herself at his kindness, making a mental note that he was dependable in a crisis. He was also pretty cute in his charming, geeky way, which she had never really noticed before. 

At the end of the night, Jaimie was gathering bags to take back to the office on her own, her intern having already gone home. Tom spotted her as he was putting on his jacket. 

“Would you like some help?” 

“That would be great, if you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all.” 

He took two bags off her hands and she grabbed the rest. 

“Look at you, saving the day again,” she said as they headed out into the brisk winter air. 

“Ah, just in the right place, I think.” 

They left the venue and started down the sidewalk, toward their office building at the end of the block. 

“Where are you from, Tom?” 

“I’m English. I’ve lived in New York for about four years now.” 

“Oh, I see. Are you going home for the holidays?” 

“No, I’ll be here.” 

“Oh, me too!” she said, surprised to get that answer. “I hate traveling at this time of year.” 

They started to cross the street, Tom leading the way. 

“What about you?” he asked. 

“I’m from South Carolina, originally. My family moved to Texas when I was a teenager, and then I moved here for college.” 

As she said it, her heel caught a patch of ice and she was instantly on her ass. A taxi cab screeched to a halt, headlights in her face. And as the light blinded her and a her body experienced a spike of adrenaline, something happened. Suddenly, she was flooded with some type of bizarre vision - no, a memory. A flashback to a grand palace in another world. _Asgard_. 

“Oh my god!” 

“Bloody hell, are you alright?” 

Tom helped her stand and realized she was shaking. The cabbie honked and they made their way over to the sidewalk, Tom still holding her arm. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” she muttered to herself.

“Jaimie?” 

She looked up at his face. More memories. Loki. Thor. Sif, her name. Asgard. The nine realms. Midgard. Earth. New York. But how? 

Tom had never seen her look so incredulous. 

“...Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh, looking down, “yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.” 

When they took the elevator at their building, Tom looked her over and saw that her hand was still shaking on the strap of her bag. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” she said as they left the bags in the supply room and she tried to retain her grasp on reality. 

“Sure. Are you sure you’re okay? I can walk you out if you’d like.” 

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I need to run to my office, anyway.” 

“Well, I hope you have a nice evening,” he said. 

Jaimie watched his face as he spoke. He was so sweet, so polite, so genuinely concerned for her. Something came over her, and without really making a conscious decision to do so, she hugged him. 

Tom was completely unprepared for this and stood paralyzed for a moment before reluctantly returning her embrace. 

“Have a good night,” she said, as she withdrew and then disappeared down the hall. 

Tom stood speechless in the quiet office for a few moments before he gathered his wits and headed back to the elevator. 

Jaimie shut herself in her office with a sigh. She collapsed into her desk chair, her head in her hands. 

“What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.” 

The same insane memories flooded her mind when she closed her eyes. She had heard stories about people changing after near death experiences - she could have died, right? - but was this a common experience? And what were these memories? A past life? She could remember with clarity what it was like to be Sif in Asgard, but it felt too insane to be real. But then there was Tom. He looked more like a younger version Loki, she realized, with his dark curly hair stopping just below his ears. She remembered Jotunheim and the Frost Giants. She recalled Sif’s frequent rage at Loki for the things he had done. It seemed impossible to believe that much evil was dormant within Tom from data entry. She remembered what he’d said about not going home and became extremely curious. 

She shook her head when she realized how long she’d been thinking about it and then turned on her monitor and googled “near death experiences.” When the information she pulled up sounded nothing like what was happening to her, she sighed. Then, she searched for “Asgard” and pages of Norse mythology came up. One of them showed an illustration of Sif, the goddess of war. She laughed and shook her head again. She tried a search for “past life memories,” and saw results about souls and regression and reincarnation and other religious concepts. Having never believed in any religion or spiritual concepts, she couldn’t help but take a skeptical eye to most of it. And again, none of it really fit her experience. No one seemed to be talking about remembering an _entire_ previous life. Maybe her brain had just invented a great story in a split second and inserted her coworker into it? But it felt so real. She leaned back in her chair and caught her breath as she felt a heart palpitation. 

“I’m officially fucking crazy,” she said, shutting down and heading home for the night. 

As she left, she found it reassuring that she still felt like herself. She hadn’t lost any of her identity as Jaimie, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that her memories as Sif were more than just a story...somehow. She took a sleeping pill before climbing into bed that night. 

The next morning, Jaimie looked at her phone and was surprised to see an email notification from Tom Ledford. 

> _Jaimie,_  
> 
> _I hope this finds you well and you’re feeling alright today. I had a lovely evening up until you narrowly escaped vehicular homicide. If it had happened to me, I’d probably spend the next few weeks cowering under blankets, so if this is the case for you, let me know if you’d like a lunch delivery or something. In all seriousness, if you’re still shaken and you need anything, I’m always available._  
> 
> _Tom_  

Jaimie nearly laughed herself to tears in surprise at his message, his adorably awkward humor, his thoughtfulness. 

Tom had spent the morning regretting hitting the “send” button and rethinking all his life choices when his phone finally buzzed with a response. 

> _Hi Tom,_  
> 
> _Thanks for checking on me. You’re funny! I’m doing fine. I hope you have a great Christmas._  
> 
> _Jaimie_  

Tom smiled. He hadn’t actually expected her to take him up on the offer of delivering food, but he would’ve been genuinely happy to do it. He wrote back. 

> _Glad to hear it. Hope you have a lovely Christmas as well._  

He suspected that might be the extent of their interaction, possibly forever. 

But two days later, on Christmas, Jaimie found herself with no plans after a friend’s dinner party was canceled due to their neighborhood being snowed in. She couldn’t stand the boredom and  decided to do something she knew she might regret. She opened her email again. 

> _I know this is probably not likely, but are you free tonight? My plans fell through and you’re one of the only people I know who is still in town. Maybe we could grab coffee or dinner? If not, no worries._  

She read the email three times, knowing that if she hadn’t slipped on the ice and had some flashbacks worthy of a one-way trip to the psychiatric ward, she probably wouldn’t have even considered asking him to hang out on Christmas. But what she said was true; she didn’t have anyone else to hang out with. She idly wished she had accepted another friend’s offer to spend Christmas in the Hamptons. 

“God, what am I doing?” 

She set the phone on the couch next to her. What if he turned her down? She snorted at the thought. She decided she was just bored and curious enough to go through with it. She edited a bit, added her cell number, and hit send. 

Tom immediately read the email five times. He stared at his phone in disbelief. 

> _Hi again. Any chance you’re free tonight? My plans fell through and I know you’re still in town. :) Maybe we could grab coffee or food?_  
> 
> _212-664-7665_  

He couldn’t decide which was more shocking: her phone number, or the fact that she’d suggested going out at all. He accepted her offer, naturally, and they ended up at an Irish pub that made a nice halfway point between their apartments. 

Jaimie walked in and saw Tom already there, in one of the back booths next to a functional fireplace and a Christmas tree. She waved as she approached and he waved back. He was somewhat relieved to see her, as it had crossed his mind that she might come to her senses and not show up. It was the first time either of them had seen the other outside of work, in normal clothes. She was in skinny jeans, a scarf, a casual coat, and her black-framed glasses. Her long hair was down and she wore a knit beret. He was in his leather jacket over a green sweater. Seeing him in person again made her flashbacks seem even more insane. 

“Hi, how are you?” she said as she scooted in across from him, wincing as she sat down. 

“I’m great...and you?” 

“I’m good. Ow. I have a giant bruise from that slip,” she said, explaining her discomfort. 

“I do regret that I wasn’t able to catch you,” he apologized. “I should’ve let you cross first.” 

“Oh, it’s not your fault,” she said, dismissively waving her gloved hand. “And I know this is so random; I just hate being alone on Christmas.” 

“You said your plans fell through?” 

“Yes, I was going to a friend’s dinner party in the suburbs, but they’re snowed in.” 

“Ah,” he nodded sympathetically, recalling the weather reports. 

“I didn’t have any plans, myself,” he added with a shrug. “But I’m much happier now that I do.” 

She nodded. A server came and took their orders. Afterward, she removed her coat and gloves and let her curiosity get the best of her. 

“Why did you decide to stay in town for the holidays?” she asked, choosing her words carefully. 

“I had kind of a falling out with my family a few years back. I don’t actually go back to England much anymore.” 

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s alright.” 

“That was a nosey question, I’m sorry.” 

“It really wasn’t.” 

All it had accomplished was making her more curious. Tom found it extremely surreal to be sitting across from Jaimie, who he noticed looked very cute in her glasses and hat, and he reminded himself that the chances that his was anything more than a friendly meeting were slim. 

“You look lovely,” he said, in direct disobedience of his thoughts. 

She smiled. “Thank you. You look nice, too.” 

Tom felt she was being charitable by saying so, but Jaimie did genuinely like the green sweater. She realized now how attractive he really was, particularly for his voice and cheekbones. She had never really noticed him that way; he wasn’t her usual type. But he looked good sitting across from her, even with the unfortunate haircut. 

“So, what is it that you do?” she asked. “I’m sorry to ask, I should know.” 

Tom had been at the company for two years, Jaimie for six. Everyone in the office knew her as the pretty senior vice president from accounting, even though most of them never directly interacted with her. Tom himself hadn’t seen this much of her in all his time at the company. 

“That’s alright. I’m an editor in quality control, and I’ve also been helping out in data entry for a few months, since they’re very backlogged. I appreciate the extra hours.” 

Jaimie nodded. “So, you like editing?” 

“I do. I enjoy writing as well, but there’s something about making everything sound just right... Of course, it’s a bit boring to describe it out loud.” 

“No, not at all,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m glad someone enjoys it.” 

“What about you? Were you always interested in finance?” 

“Not always, but my MB is in accounting. I like numbers and strategies, myself.” 

“Well, you certainly seem like the best for the job. I’ve only ever heard positive things.” 

She smiled, not sure if she believed that, and finished her dinner. 

As they left the bar, Tom liked his arm through hers. 

“No falling. I won’t allow it.” 

Jaimie laughed and held his elbow. “Thank you.” 

She had to stop herself from laughing a second time when she realized that she definitely wanted to sleep with him. 

“What are you doing on New Year’s?” she asked as they headed down the sidewalk. 

“Probably something extremely rebellious, like going to bed at a reasonable hour. You?” 

She laughed again. 

“I’m supposed to go to this party at The Jane. I have some doubts it’ll be my crowd, but one of my good friends asked me to come since her boyfriend is DJing that night and she wants lots of people to show up.” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“Your excitement is contagious.” 

“You want to come? I mean, I’d hate to interfere with your plans to sleep.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked, surprised at her directness. “Wouldn’t you rather spend time with your friend?” 

“I love her, but she’s crazy, and she’ll know lots of people there, unlike me. Anyway, the invitation’s open if you want to.” 

They stopped and faced each other, having come to the point where they’d part ways. 

“Well, after your description, how could I possibly refuse?” 

She nodded with sarcastic enthusiasm. 

“Yes, certainly, I’ll join you.” 

“Yay. Goodnight, Tom.” 

“Goodnight. Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” she said as she headed away. 

New Years Eve found Tom and Jaimie at The Jane, both arriving around 11pm. Jaimie was in black skinnies and heels this time, with a sparkly top and blazer, her hair curled at the ends. Tom couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked. He was in a navy button-up under his leather jacket; if he’d added a tie he would’ve looked like he was headed to work. They met up with Jaimie’s friend Bridgitte, a woman with pink hair and piercings, who hugged them when they arrived, and insisted on getting a photo of the two of them. The crowd was young enough to make them feel slightly out of place, and eventually the drunken millennials and dubstep remixes drove them to the rooftop bar, which turned out to be just as popular. 

“Oh, fuck. These people are crazy,” said Jaimie, pulling her jacket tighter as she felt the rush of icy air. 

“Do you want to go back inside?” 

“No, let’s stay. It’s almost midnight, right?” she said, heading over to the side where they had a view of the river. 

“Yeah, almost.” 

“At least it’s a nice view,” she said, shivering. 

Tom politely put an arm around her and she leaned into him, still shaking. He added the other arm across the front and held her, hoping it wasn’t an awkward choice. Jaimie liked Tom’s arms around her. She felt so comfortable with him, as if they’d stood that way many times before. 

“Better?” 

“Yes, you’re much warmer than the air.” 

A server came around distributing champagne for the post-countdown toast. 

“Thank you for coming,” Jaimie added. “Sorry it’s kind of a bust.” 

“Do I lose points if I say I’m actually enjoying myself?” 

“No,” she said, looking up at him and smiling. “I”m glad.” 

He smiled back. And then everyone started counting down. _10..9..8..7…_ More people crammed over to the side of the roof where they stood, and Jaimie held on to Tom when the crowd around them became uncomfortably dense. _6...5...4...3..2..1 Happy New Year!_ Everyone cheered and held up their champagne glasses. Jaimie leaned up and kissed Tom’s cheek, and then there were fireworks. A ship in the river filled the sky with colorful explosions, and their view was genuinely perfect. 

Tom glanced down at her as they stood under the bright and booming sky, wondering about the kiss, the embrace, the invitation. Looking at her face, it still seemed impossible that Jaimie fucking Silvester was into him. 

But then, in the cab after the party, she really kissed him. Tom’s eyes went wide, in sheer disbelief of having her lips on his. And then her hand was on his neck, too. 

“Jaimie,” he started, easing away, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ve had several drinks.” 

“I’m not drunk, Tom,” she replied, amused. But his expression made her back off. “I’m sorry. I’m making you uncomfortable.” 

“No, that was...lovely, but I don’t want you to do something you’d regret.” 

She had to look out the window and smile to herself. Men never stopped her when she threw herself at them. Tom was so sweet, so different. The cab stopped in front of her apartment and she turned to him again. 

“Would you like to come up for some coffee or hot cider?” she asked. “Why do you look so shocked? I’m having a nice time; aren’t you?” 

“Oh, yes, I just… Sure, I’ll join you.” 

 _Yeah you will._  

Once inside, they removed their coats and Tom looked around at her large, beautiful apartment, furnished with dark wood furniture, charcoal gray walls, and feminine accents, like something out of a catalog. 

“Wow, you have a beautiful home.” 

“Thanks,” she said, putting her arms around him and kissing him again. 

His hands were on her waist, but he was still having trouble grasping the reality of the situation. 

“And here you lead me up here under the pretense of hot drinks.” 

“Are you mad?” she mock-pouted, then kissed his neck. 

“I’m _so_ cross, Jaimie.” 

She looked up at him and smirked. 

“Are you not into this?” 

“I am. I’m sorry. The sarcasm comes out when I get nervous.” 

“Don’t be nervous,” she said, pressing her body to his. “It’s just us.” 

She kissed him again and then pulled out the phrase she used as a secret weapon. 

“Mmm. I want you,” she said matter-of-factly. 

Tom’s expression relaxed and he resumed kissing her. Jaimie continued until she could tell he was sufficiently seduced and then slinked backward toward the bedroom. 

“Give me a minute to freshen up and then come find me. There’s a second bathroom over there.” 

She turned and disappeared into her room - the master bedroom, as Tom discovered, when the second bathroom was next to a guest room. Her apartment was enormous. _She must make three times what I do._  

He found her bedroom door open a crack and knocked. 

“There you are,” she said. 

He entered and found her in just her bra and panties, matching black lace with white trim. Her arms were around him again and she kissed him, and his hands on her bare waist left him breathless. 

“My god, you’re gorgeous.” 

She smiled and started to undo his pants. 

“Oh, god.” 

And then she kissed his neck. 

“Oh, god.” 

And then she started to unbutton his shirt. 

“Oh, g-” 

She kissed him and he pulled his shirt off the rest of the way so he was standing in her bedroom in his boxers. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, embracing him again and kissing him, their skin warm against each other. 

His hands were on her waist again, but he couldn’t summon the courage to move them lower. Sex didn’t usually make him so nervous, but _Jaimie fucking Silvester_. 

When he let out a deep moan against her and she could feel that he was definitely into it, she casually unhooked her bra, slid it off, and sat on the bed. Tom inwardly experienced a boyish glee at the sight of her breasts and followed her lead, joining her and resuming making out. She smirked at his nervous eagerness and her own arousal. 

“Are you ready?” she asked softly. 

“If you are.” 

He was so hard for her, he was now somewhat anxious about how long he could last. She retrieved a condom from the drawer of her nightstand, and then slid off her panties as he put it on. When he turned back to her, she kissed him again, her hands in his hair, moaning at his touch. She lied back onto the mattress and held his hips as he pressed into her, his breath on her shoulder. 

“Oh, god,” she said on cue as he was in her. 

He moaned into her shoulder as he started to rock his pelvis, and her eyes flashed open. 

“Oh, _GOD_ ,” she repeated in surprise. 

He was good in a way she hadn’t expected. Too good. His thrusts sent waves of pure bliss through her body and her skin flushed. 

“Oh, god, mmm,” she moaned and kissed him and messed up his hair. 

Tom was moaning and gasping in rhythm with himself, trying to keep a slow pace for the sake of his stamina. 

Jaimie bit her lip and held his ass, wanting more. 

“Mmm, harder.” 

“'Fraid not,” he apologized. 

Jaimie looked him in the eyes, taking his meaning. 

“It’s okay. Let it happen. Fuck me.” 

Her words were direct but her tone was sweet, and he obeyed. 

“ _Ohhhhhhh_ ,” she moaned as he slammed into her. 

He breathed into her shoulder for a moment afterward and then kissed her temple. 

“I’m sorry that was so fast,” he panted. 

“No, that was hot.” She kissed him. “So hot.” 

Afterward, she delivered on her promise of hot cider and found herself enjoying watching him lift the white mug to his lips with his handsome hands. 

“I guess I’ll see you at work,” she said when she saw him to the door. 

“Sure,” he said. 

She wanted to say they should see each other again, but she never said that. She always waited for men to say it. But she wanted to say it. 

“Thanks for a great evening,” she added. 

“Happy New Year,” he said. 

She spent the next few days angrily staring at her phone, mentally commanding him to text her. She refused to consider that they might only have sex once. 

Tom had figured it was a one-time thing with Jaimie, and he didn’t want to do anything that seemed desperate or overly attached. So, he waited until the following week, when they were both back in the office, and decided to test the waters that morning. 

He texted: _Happy Monday! Heading to Starbucks. Would you like something?_  

Jaimie’s heart jumped at his message popping up on her phone. 

She replied: _OMG you’re my hero. Skim latte for me! Thank you!_

Tom smiled. Her acceptance meant an invitation to her office, of course. 

“Knock, knock,” Tom said, poking his head in with the drinks in hand. 

““Hi, come in,” Jaimie said softly, as she was on the phone. 

He crept in with an apologetic look on his face and started to set the coffee on her desk. 

“Stay for a second; shut the door,” she added, inwardly overjoyed to see him. 

Tom did as she asked. He suspected that most people did. As Jaimie wrapped up her call, Tom looked around the office. Until now, he had never set foot inside. It was well-furnished, with a mahogany bookcase behind her desk, two plush chairs in front, and on the wall across from her there was a nice cabinet with two small shelving units above, decorated with photos and vases. Much more impressive than his cube. It felt like hallowed ground. 

“Sorry about that,” she said, hanging up. “How much do I owe you?” 

“Oh, no, it’s my treat.” 

“That’s so sweet, Tom, thanks.” 

“Oh, sure.” 

She surprised him by standing and then coming over and hugging him. She was instantly putty in his arms, but she maintained her composure. 

“Did you have a good weekend?” he asked awkwardly. 

She looked into his eyes for a moment and went almost dizzy. 

“It was okay.” 

“I’m glad to see you again,” she said, lifting her cup to her lips.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” he said, somewhat surprised. 

Jaimie smirked at her coffee. There was a brief awkward silence.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he added, hoping it wasn't too direct. 

“Good,” she said, taking another sip of her latte. “Why don’t you come by after work?” 

“Oh, sure... Did you want to have dinner?” 

“I have a corporate dinner tonight,” she said, apologetic. “But if you come by around six I’ll have some time to kill.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Jaimie surprised him by kissing his cheek, and Tom nearly dropped his coffee.

“Thanks again,” she said, raising her cup. 

“Cheers.” 

Both of them thought about that kiss for the rest of the day. When evening rolled around and Tom again arrived at her office, he tapped the door this time. There was no response, and he could tell the lights were out. He wondered if she'd already left for dinner. Just then, Jaimie opened it and shut it behind him, and immediately, her arms were around him, her lips against his. 

“Hi,” she said when she paused to look at him. 

“Hi,” he answered with a laugh. 

Then, she kissed his neck. 

“Oh, god,” Tom said again. 

His cheeks were rosy, eyes wide. 

“Everything okay?” she asked. 

His breath trembled in response. “Yes, I just, god, I can’t believe this is happening.” He looked her over. “You’ve always been so sexy at work, god.” 

Jaimie smirked. “Oh, I see. Did you fantasize about this?” 

Tom’s eyes were wider. 

“That’s a yes,” she said, satisfied, loosening his tie. 

“To be fair, I think everyone’s fantasized about you.” 

He instantly regretted saying it, but she seemed unphased. 

“Well, make no mistake,” she said, sitting on her cabinet and scooting back, in between the two wall shelves. As she did, Tom noticed that she was no longer wearing pantyhose and had to bite his cheek. “This is a special occasion. I’ve never had sex at work before.” 

“Oh, god,” he said again, breathless. 

“You are okay with this, right?” 

“I’m definitely okay with this.” 

Jaimie smiled and pulled him closer, letting her knees hug his hips. Tom kissed her and ran his hands up her back, his heart racing. When Jaimie started to unbuckle his belt, he could practically hear his pulse. His breath shook and he bit his lips, and she studied his face, hers perfectly composed. 

“What’d we do in your fantasy?” she teased. 

“This is already far better than anything I imagined.” 

He delicately placed a hand on her bare knee. 

“Well, don’t be shy,” she said, shifting into his touch. 

Tom ran his hand up her skirt over the skin of her thigh, up to her hip, where he felt...more skin. She watched the realization come over him. 

“You’re not wearing--” 

“Nope.” 

She bit her lip as she unzipped his pants, spreading her legs farther again. He swallowed and moved his hand between her legs. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he said as he felt how wet she was. 

“Mm, yeah, you feel that?” she purred. “I want you so bad, Tom.” 

She had to smirk at his reaction. He still looked like a deer in headlights. She slipped her hand into his boxers and he let out a whimper at her hand around his penis. 

“Oh my god, you’re _so_ hard.” She bit her lip as she pumped him a few times. “I guess you’re ready...” 

“Ugh, yes. But I don’t actually have a--” 

She slipped two fingers into her bra and produced a condom. 

“I do.” 

Tom took it, but his fingers shook as he started to tear the wrapper. 

“Let me,” she said, and took it back. 

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. _Smooth. So very smooth._

“It’s alright. Kiss me.” 

Their lips were hot against each other. Jaimie pushed the waistband of his boxers down, exposing him. He had a fleeting fear that she’d come to her senses and just leave him standing there in her office with a raging erection. Instead, she slipped the blue condom over his dick and stroked his shaft a few times. He gasped and had to brace himself on her thighs. 

She grabbed the sides of her skirt and hiked it up over her hips, spreading her legs wider, thankful for the spandex blend. Then her hands were on his waist, her pelvis angled toward him. Tom angled himself to meet her entrance as he moved closer to her. When he hit the right spot it slipped in with ease. 

“Oh, god, _yes_ ,” she breathed into his ear, her hands on his ass. “Fuck me, Tom.” 

She leaned back and he held her, moaning into her shoulder as he thrusted. 

“Shhh-hhh,” she said sweetly, then kissed him again. 

Forget office sex, Tom had never even had standing-up, still-dressed sex. The perfume on Jaimie’s neck was strong up close and he breathed her sweet scent and loved her arms around him. She turned her head and started to kiss his ear, taking it in her mouth, and he moaned and trembled at her touch. 

“Oh god, oh god, ahhh,” he muttered, managing to stay quiet. 

“Mmm yeah, are you close?” she purred into his ear. 

He nodded, his eyes still closed. 

“Oh god, I wanted you _all day_ ,” she added, running her hands up his back. 

“ _Mmmm_ , me too,” he panted. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, ahhh.” 

Jaimie gripped his ass as he came and kissed his ear again. He let out a few labored breaths and kissed her temple before he pulled out. 

“That was-” Jaimie started, and then she felt Tom’s fingers. “Ahhh!” 

He couldn’t tell if she was confused or just surprised. 

“I thought you might like to finish.” 

“Well, don’t stop!” 

With two fingers in her, he moved the pad of his thumb across her clit. 

“Oohhh!” 

Jaimie clasped a hand over her mouth at her own loudness. Tom smiled and kissed her neck as he worked his hand. 

“Oh my god, Tom. _Fuck_. Fucking Jesus fuck. GOD.” 

He had to laugh a little at her losing her composure at his touch. Jaimie’s legs shook and she let out a soft squeak of a moan as she felt her orgasm building. She tilted her head back, arching her back, and then she came, throbbing with glorious pleasure that pulsed through her body in waves. Looking up at the ceiling, she could practically see stars. 

When it was over, she took his face in her hands and kissed him in a daze. The two of them cleaned up and fixed their clothes in silence, both smiling. 

“I’m really glad we did this again,” she said casually as they faced each other. 

He laughed. 

“Me too.” 

“Sorry I can’t do dinner tonight. You want to go to lunch tomorrow?” 

“Sure,” he said, surprised and happy she’d asked. 

“Okay. I have a meeting, but it should be out by noon.” 

“It’s a date.” 

She smiled and kissed him goodbye. After he’d gone, the events of the evening replayed through her head and she became slightly embarrassed when she recalled how uncomfortable he had seemed at first. She’d found it hot at the time, but in retrospect, she started to worry that she’d pushed him or moved too fast. Tom wasn’t her usual type; the brawny, egotistical men she loved to reduce to quivering mush. He was different. He wasn’t cocky or entitled. She had to put it out of her mind for the corporate dinner, where she also took full advantage of the free wine. That night when she got home, she rode her elliptical to exhaustion as usual before passing out in bed. 

Tom’s mind was somehow both numb and racing as he headed home from work. Jaimie seemed genuinely interested in him, but he didn’t want to overthink it. She could be the type of person who would fixate on someone and then lose interest after a short time. He knew he couldn’t become too attached. And yet, as he made his way home, he couldn’t help but beam with happiness. 

The next morning, Jaimie woke up feeling excited about their lunch plans and opened her closet on a mission. She selected a black pencil skirt and a white button up she rarely wore since it was too tight on her breasts but could boost her cleavage with the right bra. She then pulled her hair up, wore her glasses, red lipstick, and finally, her black stiletto pumps. Satisfied with what she saw in the mirror, she threw on her blazer and headed to work. Heading into her office, she felt a little bit like she had overdone the sexiness, so she amped up her confidence to compensate. When her meeting got out at 11:20, she made her way over to Tom’s area, knowing people were watching her every step. She popped into his cubicle as if it were completely natural. 

"Hey you. Ready for lunch?” 

Tom looked up. She was mildly relieved to see that he looked happy to see her. 

“Oh, sure,” he said, surprised to see her in his department. He stood and started to grab his bag and coat. 

“I’m early, I know. I’m starving.” 

“Oh, that’s alright,” he said, joining her. “You look nice.” 

“Thanks,” she said in a polite, almost girlish tone. “So do you.” 

Tom almost laughed since he was just in his regular work ensemble of black pants, a blue button-up, and tie. 

Jaimie relished the feeling of the eyes watching them - Tom’s coworkers who would probably drop their jaws and whisper after they’d gone. She’d already seen the redhead in the corner shoot an _omg_ glance at another woman. 

As the two of them got on the elevator, they exchanged a few hellos with other coworkers who looked vaguely confused to see them leaving together. When they reached the bottom floor, Jaimie turned to him. 

“What do you feel like?” 

“I know a great breakfast place.” 

“Perfect.” 

When they arrived, she specifically requested a corner booth. Tom figured she was the type of person who didn’t hesitate to ask for what she wanted. Then, seated in the corner moments later, he decided she probably usually got what she asked for. 

“How’s your day going?” she asked over her menu. 

“Oh, it’s fine. Pretty busy, but typical. You?” 

“It’s fine. I’m glad to see you.” 

“You too. You really look...great.” 

“Thanks,” she said, and then she set down her menu and spoke more directly.

“So, about what happened yesterday,” she said in a hushed tone, “I hope I didn’t cross a line there. I hope you didn’t feel pressured into doing something that you weren’t okay with.” 

“What?” he replied in an incredulous whisper, “Are you serious? Yesterday was amazing, I can’t even stop thinking about it. That was the best...of my _life_.” 

He laughed a soft, happy laugh. Jaimie smiled and touched his arm. 

“Good. Me too.” 

The way she looked at him as she said it made his heart rate increase, and as she leaned across the table, he caught a glimpse of her cleavage. 

“I just wish I had handled the situation with more sauve,” he admitted. 

“Oh, no, you were great,” she said, and she could tell he thought she was just being polite. 

“The nervousness was actually really hot,” she admitted. 

He smiled a bashful smile. 

“Well, there should be no shortage of that.” 

The memory of his shaky hands spiked her arousal enough to make her withdraw her hand from his. She wiped her palm on her skirt and then took a drink of her water. Just then, the server provided a nice distraction. They discussed their current projects at work as they waited for their orders. After the food arrived, Jaimie remembered something. 

“That woman in your department with the red hair is into you.” 

Tom blinked, somewhat amused. “What?” 

Jaimie nodded. 

“Casey? No, I don’t think so.” 

“I saw the way she looked at us as we left. I can read people.” 

Tom took a sip of his drink, thinking back on his interactions with Casey, surprised at the observation. 

“Uh-huh. There it is. You like her, too.” 

He looked up, amused again. Jaimie raised her eyebrows, as if to say _am I wrong?_  

“Alright, fine. She’s a pretty girl. I’ve noticed.” 

“Do I have anything to worry about?” Jaimie asked, teasing, and eating her strawberry garnish. 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I’d never joke about this,” she said, while her face said the opposite. 

“ _You_ couldn’t possibly have anything to worry about,” he said in a hushed, deep tone that made Jaimie cross her legs. 

Tom laughed a little and continued eating his eggs, acting casual although his heart thumped quickly in his chest. When he looked back at her, she was still giving him an intense look. 

“You’re not really jealous of that, are you?” 

“No,” Jaimie shook her head and smiled, glancing out the window for a second. “But…I was just not prepared for the way you affect me.” She shook her head, smiling. “I’ve never really felt like this.” 

“What do you mean? How I affect you?” he asked, his heart pounding. 

“I really like you,” she said. “Which is rare enough. But also? I’m. I’m so attracted to you I can’t think straight.” 

Tom was flattered and stunned. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, and he took a drink of water. Jaimie uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. 

“I mean, I’m sitting here watching you eat lunch, and I’m glad that I have backup panties at my office.” 

Tom inhaled his water and began coughing. 

“I’m sorry,” she said with a little laugh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“No, no, it’s alright,”  he said, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “I just wish you’d said something sooner. My apartment is actually close to here.” 

Jaimie felt her body blush and had to press her knees together. 

“How close?” 

“Eight minutes?” 

“Do you want to?” 

His eyes went wide in disbelief. “Sure, alright!” 

At the first opportunity, Jaimie caught their server’s arm and insisted on the check. Tom had to stifle a laugh at her urgency. 

As they headed out of the diner, Jaimie placed one heel in front of the other and hoped that Tom was watching her ass. She took a deep breath when she noticed again how horny she was. 

Behind her, Tom was watching Jaimie’s ass in her snug pencil skirt. And then he looked up at her hair, up in a neat swirled bun, and thought about how it might look after they reached his apartment. His heart was still pounding. 

As he unlocked his door, she practically squirmed with anticipation. 

“I think I’m as wet as I was yesterday,” she whispered. 

“Jesus,” he breathed, hurrying with his key. 

“Take your time,” she teased, letting her hair down. 

Finally inside, jackets off, she pushed him up against the wall and kissed him, moaning when his hands were on her. He unzipped her skirt and she went straight for his belt. He ran his hand up her thigh to her crotch, where he felt her dampness through her pantyhose. 

“Well, you weren’t lying.” 

She gasped at his touch, and they left a literal trail of clothes across the floor on the way to the bedroom. Tom wished for a split-second that he had cleaned up, but then there was a condom and his hands weren’t shaking and they were climbing into his bed and he was on top of her. 

“Oh god, Tom, oh god,” she said as he was in her. “I can’t get enough of you.” 

She purred and moaned as he rocked his pelvis, messing up his hair, kissing his bare skin, happy to be naked again. 

“Lucky me.” He kissed her neck. 

She held him close and loved every thrust. 

“God, it’s _so_ good with you. So good. Like puzzle pieces. You feel it?” 

“Oh god, yes,” he breathed, his cheek against hers. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but the idea that his cock brought her greater pleasure than all others was extremely appealing. She embraced him and moaned, her volume now unrestricted. 

“God, Jaimie. You are exceptional in every sense of the word.” 

She only looked at him and touched his cheek in response, her face flushed, and then her eyes were shut again, her breaths coming and going as _mmmm_ s. 

“Can I try something?” he asked. 

“Sure,” she answered in a happy daze. 

“Could you move your leg over so both are on this side?” He motioned to his left hip. 

She immediately took his meaning and laughed. 

“Oh, you know what you’re doing,” she said as she complied. 

He resumed fucking her at the new angle, and moved his hand up to rub her clit. She gasped and moaned in an anguished falsetto. 

“Oh, _god_ , you know what you’re doingahhh!” 

He smiled and kissed her and she moaned into his kiss. Waves of sweet pleasure radiated through her from the motion of his dick and his swirling fingers. When she came, she could feel her orgasm all the way down to her toes. Her legs shook and she pressed her brow to his shoulder. Tom collapsed onto her and kissed her breast. She touched his cheek and kissed him, holding her forehead against his for a moment. 

“I should have tried that sooner,” he said. 

“Sooner? It’s only our third time.” 

Tom was inwardly overjoyed at her use of _only_. 

“What time is it?” she said as they got up to get dressed. 

“Oh, god, it’s past one,” he said, looking at his phone. 

“Long lunch,” she said with a smirk. 

Tom looked over as she redid her hair and lipstick in his bathroom. Something about Jaimie Silvester standing in front of his mirror, next to his toothbrush, was surreal even after what they had just finished. 

“I see you watching me.” She smiled at him in the mirror. 

After she was dressed and waiting for him in the living room, she moved idly around, looking at odds and ends on his bookshelves. And then a photo caught her eye. With Tom out of sight, she took it from the shelf and nearly fainted. 

Recognition hit her like a blow to the chest. She felt a tear start to pool in her eye in sheer shock. Pictured was Tom and another man, presumably at some formal event. And the other man was Tom’s brother, and she was certain of that, even though she had never before seen Tom’s brother. Tom had never even mentioned having a brother. But there he was. Just like in her flashback episode. _Thor_. 

“What have you got there?” Tom asked from behind her. 

“Um,” she cleared her throat, “is this your brother?” 

“Lucky guess. We were at a friend’s wedding a couple years back... Are you alright?” 

“So, you’re still in touch with him?” 

“Oh, yes, it’s really just our father I avoid. Chris had nothing to do with his bullshit, although he certainly seems to tolerate it better.” 

She placed the photo back on the shelf, still staring at it. 

“We’d better get going,” she said. 

The whole way back to the office, she felt like she’d seen a ghost. 

The two of them had several more long lunches in weeks that followed. At work, Tom had expected Jaimie to be all business - outside of her office - and was then pleasantly surprised when he passed her in a hallway and she turned from her group to say, “Hi, Tom.” It turned out that she alternated between _Hey, you_ and _Hi, Tom_ , depending on if she was walking alone or with others. Sometimes she even touched his arm if she passed him closely, and she made a point to stand near him in the elevators. Tom was on cloud nine. 

One particular Friday, after a nice long lunch, they were joined in the elevator by a tall blond man who immediately greeted Jaimie. She knew him as Ryan from a law firm a few floors down. He always hit on her, and he took this opportunity to invite her out for drinks after work.

“Oh, that sounds fun. We already have plans, but thanks for asking,” she answered, gesturing at Tom. 

Tom nodded, his eyes burning with pride at hearing her say _we_. The other guy became visibly uncomfortable when he took their meaning and gave a polite goodbye as he reached his floor. Jaimie watched Ryan go, and the idea that he might be jealous made her want to turn and throw herself on Tom. 

The doors shut, and during their brief moment alone, Tom caressed the small of her back. 

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Do we have plans?” 

She gave him a knowing glance and then kissed him in a way that said _yes we fucking do_. 

“See you after work.” 

“Should I come to your office?” he asked, his hand sliding down to her hip. 

She smiled but shook her head. 

“Let’s go home again. I don’t want to be quiet.” 

Tom sighed and held her hips, forever amazed at her ability to make him crave her after they’d just been together. Jaimie smirked and the elevator dinged as they reached their floor. 

Later the next week, Tom was at his desk, staring at his monitor and daydreaming when an email notification from Jaimie popped up. 

 _Would you want go to this?_  

He smiled at her typo and scrolled down to the portion she had forwarded. Confusion followed when he saw that it was an astrophysics symposium event at NYU that someone had invited her to. It included a list of topics and speakers, but nothing clued him in to why she’d sent it on. 

“You know, I think a lot of people at work know about us,” Tom said later over dinner at Jaimie’s apartment. 

“What do they know?” 

“That we’re dating… We are dating, right?” 

Jaimie laughed and nodded. 

“Is that causing any problems for you?” she asked, concerned. 

“Oh, not at all. I kind of like it, actually,” he said with a smirk. “I just wasn’t sure if you knew.” 

“Actually, I do know,” she said, and then added in a playful tone, “I like it, too.” 

They smirked at each other. The conversation jogged her memory. 

“You never replied to that email today.” 

“You really want to go to an astrophysics lecture?” 

“Why not?” she said casually, sipping her wine. “It looked interesting.” 

“Sure,” he shrugged. “If you want.” 

“Your excitement is contagious,” she said in a tragically botched English accent. 

“That's really good,” Tom said in mock praise, patting her arm. 

“Mm-hm. Sounded just like you.” 

They both laughed. 

“Also, I had another idea,” she said somewhat cautiously. “I want to go look at the stars sometime. We could drive out of the city somewhere where we could really see them at night.” 

“Well, I like that idea. What’s this sudden interest in astronomy?” 

“I guess I’ve been feeling nostalgic for a time when I could see the stars better.” 

“Back in South Carolina?” 

“Yeah... And I just thought it sounded like a fun thing to do.” 

“It does. I’ll find out what the prime locations are.” 

Jaimie smiled and took another bite of pasta. 

“I called you my boyfriend today,” she said after another sip of wine. “Is that okay?” 

Tom looked surprised. “At work?” 

“No, I was on the phone with my sister.” 

“And you told her you have a boyfriend?” 

Jaimie nodded. Tom smiled with a breathy laugh. 

“Of course that’s okay,” he said, and then he couldn’t stop smiling. “I’d get up and hug you, but this is way too delicious.” 

Jaimie smirked and set her napkin on the table, then got up and threw her arms around him. At first he laughed, and then he embraced her, and she sat in his lap. And for a moment, they thought of nothing but each other. 

That weekend, Jaimie drove to Tom’s apartment, ready for their stargazing adventure. He smiled at how cute she looked in her puffy coat and earmuffs. 

“I have a surprise for you,” he said as she came in. 

“Oh?” 

“Consider it a late Christmas gift,” he said, going to fetch it. 

“What did you get me?” she asked with a semi-nervous laugh. 

He handed her a long, white box with a Christmas bow on it. 

“Ta-da.” 

She took the box and saw the telescope pictured on the side. 

“Oh my god!” 

“It’s not exactly top of the line, but I thought it might enhance the experience.” 

“That’s so sweet, Tom, thank you.” 

She hugged him. 

With hot chocolate and blankets in tow, they headed out of the city in Jaimie’s car. 

“We’re insane to be doing this in the winter, right?” she joked as they drove through snow. 

“Probably.” 

The sky looked progressively more amazing as they moved away from the city lights. Tom had found a large park area about an hour away where he hoped they could enjoy the night sky in solitude. Whey they found a clearing and parked, Jaimie practically jumped out of the car. 

“Oh my god, this is perfect! Look how clear the sky is!” 

“Wow, that’s the Milky Way,” said Tom, pointing. 

He put his arms around her for warmth, his gloves sliding across her coat, and they leaned against the bumper. The word _pristine_ came to Tom’s mind as he gazed up at the sparkly sky, a million little pinholes in a dark canopy. 

Jaimie couldn’t help but reflect on how consistently wonderful Tom was. So many ex-boyfriends would have taken the opportunity - any opportunity - to grope her butt or boobs, but not Tom. Never Tom. It was such a simple thing, but it was not trivial to her in the least, because it reminded her how much he respected her. She took in the sight, but instead of evoking memories, the stars made her feel extremely present. Her breath came out as fog, the metal of the bumper was cold through her pants, and Tom’s sweet arms held her close. Nothing about the moment could be clouded by any other lifetime. 

“There’s the north star,” he said, pointing again. “In Ursa Minor. I think Draco’s next door.” 

“Which one?” 

He aligned his arm with her point of view. 

“That little bright one there. See it? And then the handle?” 

“Oh!” 

“An astronomy professor I had told us Polaris wasn’t the brightest star in the sky. I thought that was a bit rude.” 

She laughed a much quieter laugh than Tom expected. When he looked down at her face, he noticed she had tears in her eyes. 

“You alright?” he asked, stroking her arm. 

“Yes, it’s just so beautiful.” She smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek with a gloved finger. “I’m sorry, I made it weird.” 

“Not at all,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Still feeling nostalgic?” 

She thought for a moment and then looked up at him. 

“No. I’m happy to be here with you.” 

She kissed him and then gave him a brief, tight hug. 

“Now let’s get the telescope,” she said, turning to open the trunk. “And that starmap app thing.” 

Tom grabbed her arm and pulled her into another kiss and held her there. Their lips were hot against each other in the brisk air, their arms sinking into the fluff of their outerwear. 

They set up the telescope in the crunchy snow and stayed in the field until their fingers and toes were numb. 

When they got back to Tom’s apartment later that night, they wasted no time jumping in bed to warm up. 

“Oh, god, your hands are freezing!” Tom said, wincing at her touch under the covers. 

“Sorry! But your ass is so warm.” 

He laughed and kissed her. 

“Thank you for being insane with me,” she said more quietly. 

“Anytime,” he said, sweeping some hair out of her face. “You’re so beautiful.” 

She smiled. 

“You know what I really love?” 

“What?” 

“This little mark.” 

He touched her cheek just below her right eye. 

“My mole?” she pouted. 

“Yes.” 

He kissed her there, and then Jaimie met his lips, running her cold hands up his back. She thought about the stars and the snow, and how she was still anything but nostalgic. As they made love, she looked into his eyes and felt perfectly content in a way that had long evaded her. Tom kissed her neck and her temple, and they were finally warm. 

Afterward, Jaimie scanned the room for clothes. 

“Can I wear this?” she asked, picking up one of Tom’s blue button-up shirts. 

“Sure.” 

She slipped it on and it was long enough to barely cover her panties. 

“Looks better on you,” he smirked, and then stepped over to his bathroom. 

Jaimie wandered into the living room and found herself looking over the books on Tom’s shelf as she had many times before. She picked up the photo of him with his brother again. Chris looked exactly like the type of man she’d usually dated: ripped, handsome, confident. Predictable. Boring. He held none of the appeal he would’ve had in this lifetime or any. When she looked over at Tom, she smiled almost reflexively. He smiled so genuinely in photographs, in a way that always made her heart flutter. 

“You look at that picture all the time,” he said, sitting on the couch. 

“Can I ask you something?” she said, setting it down and joining him. 

He nodded. 

“Why don’t you visit your family anymore? What happened?” 

She thought he looked slightly taken aback. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.” 

“No, it’s alright. Things had always been rocky with my father. And then four years ago, our mother died, and at her funeral, he very drunkenly told me I was adopted.” 

Her eyes went wide. 

“I didn’t believe him at first, but it turned out to be true. It was true, and no one told me until I was 29. How do you just keep that from someone? I wondered my whole life why he favored my brother so much, why things were so difficult between us. And there was my answer.” 

“That’s awful,” Jaimie said, touching his arm, and he realized she was crying. 

He almost laughed at her dramatic reaction. “It’s alright. I’m alright _now_ ,” he reassured her, placing his hand on hers. She had to wipe a tear from her face. 

“It was actually freeing, in a way. I spent so much of my life trying to win my father’s approval. Now it isn’t my faintest concern. And when you realize that no one you meet will ever hurt you as much as your own family, people’s faults become so trivial.” 

Jaimie climbed onto his lap and kissed him, straddling his legs. He was caught off guard by her again, but he held her waist and returned her affection. Jaimie touched his face. 

“You’re such a wonderful person. You deserve so much better.” 

“I don’t think it gets better than you,” he said in an earnest whisper. 

She looked into his eyes and then kissed him again, passionately, her hands in his hair. He looked at her in disbelief for a moment, and she responded by kissing his neck. 

“God, I can barely keep up with you,” he breathed. 

“I can slow down,” she said, sweeping her hair behind her ear. 

She resumed kissing, lighter this time, and he ran his hands up her bare thighs. She pressed her pelvis into his lap and he realized that he was wrong about not being able to keep up. He sat up straight, lifted her, and moved her to the side so he could be on top of her on the couch. 

“So much for slow,” she said. 

“So much,” he said, slipping her panties down her legs. 

But as he made love to her on the sofa, Jaimie still wearing his shirt, he did take it slow, rocking his hips with a firm and steady pace. They stared into each other’s eyes again, and a smile curled Jaimie’s lips. 

“You’re so pretty,” she said softly. 

She kissed him before he could respond, and then wrapped her arms around him, holding herself tight against his body. The couch creaked under his movement and he breathed into her shoulder, smelling his own scent on the shirt. He gasped and moaned when he was close, and she kissed his jaw. 

Afterward, she came up behind him while he was washing his hands in the bathroom and he smiled at her in the mirror. 

“I should probably get a haircut,” he said at his reflection. 

“Nah,” she said, as she let her arms encircle his waist, her cheek on his bare back. 

He laughed a little as he reached for his towel. 

“You know, you’re a lot different that I ever expected,” he said. 

“Good different?” she asked as they faced each other. 

“Wonderful.” 

She held his gaze for a moment and then the words came out. 

“I love you, Tom,” she said in a small whisper. 

His eyes went wide. 

“Sorry, it’s probably too soon to say that,” she said with a nervous smile, looking down. 

“No,” he said, touching her shoulder, “Not at all. Jaimie, _I_ love you. I love everything about you. I’ve never met anyone as amazing as you.” 

She looked up at him, touched, and they hugged, and neither of them cared that they were standing in the bathroom. 

“You staying the night?” he asked, looking at her again. 

She nodded, and for the first time, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.


	3. This Mortal Life

Jaimie woke up first the next morning. She looked over Tom's sleeping form, his mess of dark hair, his rosy ear. She thought of the first time she brought him to her apartment after the New Year’s party and smiled. She’d never expected to love him so much. She got up and found that he’d set an unopened toothbrush by the sink for her. When she returned to the bed, he was still sleeping, so she scooted in next to him and kissed his warm cheek. He stirred. 

“Hey you,” she said. 

He opened his groggy eyes and smiled. 

“Good morning.” 

“I’m going to make breakfast. How do you like your eggs?” 

“Eggy.” 

She laughed and kissed his nose and dashed to the kitchen. She found a frying pan in a lower cabinet, a spatula in a drawer, and took the eggs from the fridge. As she turned on the stove, she thought she felt her heart flutter again. It had been a long time since she’d made anyone breakfast. She smiled as she cracked the egg into the pan. It sizzled, the clear goo gradually turning white, and just as it took a solid form, she flipped it. 

She had a brief awareness of a change in her body as she was overcome with a sudden dizziness that made her reflexively grip the edge of the counter. 

Tom heard the thud and was instantly alarmed. 

“Jaimie?” he called out. Nothing. 

He hurried over to the kitchen, where he found her on the floor. 

“Jesus! Jaimie!” 

He knelt beside her, touching her shoulders. Her scalp was bleeding where her head had hit the floor. The spatula was beside her. Tom couldn't make sense of any of it. 

“Jaimie, sweetheart, can you hear me?” he said, his voice shaking.

She wasn't breathing. He placed his hands over her heart and began CPR. 

“Come on, come on.” 

He had to stop to run to his room for his cell phone, and he set it on the floor on speaker as it dialed 911. He continued compressions as he spoke to the person who answered. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

“My girlfriend passed out in the kitchen, I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

After the call, he unlocked the door in anticipation of the paramedics. When they arrived, they found him sobbing over her as he continued to attempt to save her. 

“Come on, Jaimie, please.” 

“Sir, I’m going to need you stop now,” said the paramedic, who gently eased his arms away. 

“Step back,” said the second woman, who guided him a few steps away. 

“No pulse. Charge paddles,” said the first, hastily pulling open the blue shirt Jaimie was still wearing. 

Tom wiped tears from his face with shaking hands, terrified but relieved that help had arrived. 

“Clear.” 

Her chest heaved under the current. And they charged again. 

“Clear.” 

And again. 

“Clear.” 

And again. 

Tom lost count of the number of times they placed the paddles on her chest. Logically, he knew that the chances of her recovery decreased each time they were unsuccessful, but he still clung to the hope that she’d open her eyes. 

One of the paramedics looked at the other and shook her head. The second stood and faced him. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, tearing up. 

“What? Oh, god, please try again, can’t you try again?” 

She shook her head. “Even if we got a pulse at this point, it’s been too long. Her brain has been without oxygen too long. I’m so, so sorry.” 

“Oh, god.” 

Tom put his face in his hands and then ran them over his hair. 

“What happened?” he said with exasperated helplessness. “I don’t understand. She was _fine_.” 

“We can’t be sure yet, but it looks like a cardiac episode. Do you know if she had a heart condition?” 

“Not that she ever mentioned,” he wailed. 

The paramedic was crying too now. She was young, probably in her early 20s. 

“Why don’t you go down for the equipment?” said the other to her. “I’ll stay with him.” 

She nodded and left the apartment. The second woman was closer to Tom’s age. She stood and placed a hand on his back. 

“You have some time to say goodbye before we take her,” she said. “I’ll step into the next room.” 

Tom nodded, barely computing her words. The paramedic turned off the stove on her way out. 

Alone in the kitchen with Jaimie again, Tom knelt beside her. At first he didn’t want to look at her, but then he touched her forehead and ran his hand over her hair. His tears fell on her shirt. His shirt. 

“How could this happen?” 

He gently kissed her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry, Jaimie. I love you. I love you.” 

The younger paramedic returned with a gurney. Before they left with the body, she hugged Tom and he collapsed into sobs in the poor girl’s arms. 

And then he was alone in the apartment. He sat on the couch, where he’d sat next to her just hours before. Everything had happened impossibly fast. The telescope was leaning up against the wall. Jaimie’s coat was over a chair. In the bedroom, her purse and shoes would be next to the bed. She was everywhere in his small apartment. It felt like she hadn’t really left; that she was still in bed or in the kitchen, that she’d come up behind him any moment and hug him, and she’d be right there, safe and happy, and it all would have been a dream, a stupid, horrible, impossible dream that he could wake from and eventually forget. But then he was looking into the kitchen again - why did he go back in there? - and her blood was still on the floor. She was still in the kitchen after all, in a few tiny drops. And there was the egg in the pan on the stove. The cold, burnt egg that she had been cooking for him. Tom became aware of the tears still pouring down his cheeks and crumpled into a ball on the floor. 

 _Sudden cardiac death_ turned out to be the official coroner’s report. Sudden cardiac arrest, the cause of death, was different than a heart attack, Tom learned, in that a heart attack occurs due to a physical blockage in the heart. By contrast, sudden cardiac arrest occurs for absolutely no fucking reason at all, due to some random malfunction that no one could predict or prevent. Apparently one side of Jaimie’s heart had been like “I’m just going to get thicker and ruin everything,” and the condition - which she had likely been unaware of - was the probable instigator of the malfunction that lead to her death. 

Tom would never know if she’d been in pain or if she was scared when it happened. He hated that he hadn’t been standing there with her, or that she hadn’t stayed in bed, that he wasn’t there to catch her and hold her and let her last feeling be his warmth instead of the hard kitchen floor. 

He managed to return to work late in the following week. He realized when he entered the building that they had begun decorating for Valentine’s Day. Riding the elevator, he was just one more person in the crowded morning rush. Several people in the office looked surprised to see him, though he couldn’t be sure how many actually knew. He found that it was actually nice to be in a familiar place that wasn’t his apartment. 

When he sat down at his desk, he knew he’d see her in his inbox, in the last email she’d ever send him. _Would you want go to this?_ What he didn’t anticipate was the green envelope in front of his keyboard. Turning it over in his hands, he realized it was probably a sympathy card and set it aside. He also failed to anticipate the email chains of “Sad News,” where they’d announced her death to the company and “Jaimie Silvester funeral,” where they’d arranged to send flowers to her family. Her body was back in Texas where they’d hold the funeral that would be attended by people he’d never met and who had no idea who he was. _Sad News_. 

“Hi, Tom,” said Casey, the young woman with red hair from his department. “I’m so glad to see you. We all are.” 

“Thank you,” he nodded. 

She might’ve said something else, but she spotted the unopened card on his desk and smiled politely before walking away. 

In the spot where she’d stood, Tom could picture Jaimie, clear as day, asking him if he was ready for lunch. _Hey, you_. He knew it was going to be an extremely long eight hours. 

Casey came back a little while later and found Tom standing to get something out of his upper cabinet. 

“Tom?” 

When he turned to her, she realized his nose and eyelids were red. 

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, I can come back.” 

“No, it’s fine. What did you need?” 

Looking at his face broke Casey’s heart. She wanted to hug him, but she was paralyzed. She swallowed. 

“I know this is horrible timing,” she started, “but, um, Mikayla has some stuff that she thought you might want to see?” 

Tom stared at a her for a moment. He almost asked who Mikayla was before it dawned on him that she was Jaimie’s intern. 

“You don’t have to go right now, but I told her I would tell you.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I’m so sorry,” she added softly. 

He nodded. “Thank you,” he said again. 

Casey started to leave. 

“I don’t actually know where Mikayla is,” he said. 

“I can take you over to her cube if you want.” 

“Sure.” 

He decided he should just get it over with instead of wondering what she could possibly have to give him. He imagined Jaimie’s office, now cleaned out of all personal effects, empty and locked. They headed over to the intern area of accounting. 

“Hey, Mikayla,” Casey said. 

She turned and saw them. Mikayla was even younger than Casey, probably a recent college graduate, with good fashion sense and a high-pitched voice. 

“Hey, girl,” she said, and then she looked at Tom. “I just had two things from her office for you. I thought I’d save them just in case.” 

He thought she seemed oddly chipper for someone who had lost her boss. She handed him a small framed picture and an envelope. The photo was the one from New Year’s Eve at The Jane that Jaimie’s friend had taken on her phone. The two of them were standing in the ballroom, arms linked, happy. 

“I had no idea she had this,” he said, holding the frame with both hands. 

“I think she just brought it in recently.” 

He had to sniff as his nose started to run. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry,” Mikayla said at seeing him start to cry. 

“It’s alright. Thank you for saving this for me.” 

“Oh, sure. And that’s those tickets I ordered to the astronomy thing? I thought you might want them.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

“How did you find out?” 

Casey’s eyes went wide at Mikayla’s intrusiveness. 

“Find out?” Tom asked. 

“That she passed away? I just had no idea at all until I saw that email.” 

“She was standing in my kitchen.” 

Casey cupped her mouth and had to walk away. Mikayla looked shocked. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I had no idea.” 

Tom realized afterward that he was actually glad someone had asked about it. Sitting at his desk, he couldn’t stop looking at the photo. The _only_ photo. 

That evening, he found an email in his personal account from a name he didn’t recognize: Hannah Parker. 

> _Hello Tom,_  
> 
> _I’m Jaimie’s sister. We’ve never spoken, but she told me about you. It brings me a lot of comfort to know that she was with someone who made her so happy, although I can imagine how awful this must be for you. I know it may not be feasible for you to get down to Texas, but I wanted to let you know that you’re more than welcome at her funeral if you’d like to come. No obligation at all, we just didn’t want to exclude you._  
> 
> _Hannah_

Though he sincerely appreciated her message, he realized he had no idea what to say to someone who had just lost a sibling. When he got up the nerve to tell his brother about what happened, Chris decided he’d come to New York to visit him, and Tom had never been more immensely grateful for the ability to look forward to something. 

He transitioned from crying every time he was alone to being angry at himself for crying so much. He cried when he could smell her on his bedsheets and cried when the scent faded. Sometimes he almost managed to become angry at Jaimie. She’d swooped into his life so suddenly and made everything wonderful and perfect only to rip it all away in an instant. _Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?_ he’d ask. But he could never bring himself to mean it. He’d remember her smile, or the little mole on her cheek, and instantly feel guilty for blaming her. And then he’d feel his heart break for her, a young woman who had so much life in front of her, gone so suddenly. And then he’d cry again. 

Chris arrived two weeks later. 

“Tommyyyyyy,” he said when he opened the door. 

They embraced and Chris patted his back in the way he always did. 

“How are you?” 

“Glad to see you.” 

“Me too.” 

Chris started to take off his coat and placed over another one on the chair next to him. 

“Oh, don’t--” 

“What?” he looked down at the chair and realized the coat under his must have been Jaimie’s. 

“No, it’s nothing, never mind.” 

Tom still hadn’t removed any of her belongings from his apartment. 

“I’m so sorry; I can’t even imagine.” 

“Thank you,” Tom nodded. “I have a picture of us.” 

He grabbed the framed photo from Jaimie’s office, now on his bookshelf, and handed it to Chris. 

“Wow,” he said. “You two look happy.” 

He looked at Tom then back at the photo. 

“I’m sorry I never met her. You should’ve had a lot more time together.” 

Tom nodded again. 

The two of them went down the street to a bar, planning to go out sightseeing the next day, since Chris had never come to New York. Tom hadn't been so excited in weeks.

That night, he woke up with a pounding headache thanks to too much beer. He stumbled into the bathroom, and then he actually stumbled when his foot caught a shoe he’d left by the door. He tripped and managed to bang his head on the sink. 

“FUCK.” 

And then it happened. It came back. Loki. Asgard. Thor. Sif. Bifrost. Jotunheim. He could barely make sense of it at first. He was amazed and confused to have new memories of Jaimie - Sif - flooding his mind. And there was more. Earth. New York. Chitauri. 

“My god,” he breathed. “All those people.” 

He recalled with horror the evil acts of his alter ego. But what was this memory? He grasped the shower curtain to stand as he tried to make sense of it. He thought again of Sif, seeing her face in a new context. And then it hit him like a gust of winter air, pricking up goosebumps and sending a chill up his spine. 

“Oh my god, you knew,” he gasped. 

Everything took on a new light upon reflection: her fixation on the photo of him with Chris, her idea to go look at the stars. 

Tom dashed to the living room and began to search his counter and shelves for the envelope containing the tickets to the astrophysics lecture. The light from his cell phone and his rummaging disturbed Chris. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, rolling over on the couch. 

“Looking for something,” he said, shoving a pile of papers onto the floor. 

“At 5am?” 

“It’s something I just remembered.” 

And then he spotted it: sticking out from between to books on his shelf, at the same level of the photo. 

“Of course,” he said, shaking his head and grabbing it. 

He pulled the tickets out, his heart pounding. And there it was. His moment of truth. 

> _Astrophysics Today: A Symposium on Dark Matter and Quantum Field Theory_  
> 
> _With an Introduction from Dr. Erik Selvig of Culver University_  

“Well, did you find it?” 

“Yes,” Tom said, smiling at the ticket and the familiar name, “I found it. Sorry to disturb.” 

He took the tickets and the photo and headed back to his bedroom, where a quick google search confirmed that this Selvig was the same one he suspected. That made him wonder, and a search for “Loki” just pulled up some sites and illustrations from Norse mythology and Viking lore. So, at least he knew that his new memories of intergalactic terrorism had not transpired in his own version of New York. He smiled again at the tickets, and the knowledge that Jaimie knew. It was like a love letter she’d left behind for him to discover when he was ready. 

He went back to his search for Selvig. After a few uninteresting clicks, he landed on an article about a research grant Selvig had received for his work at Culver. Scrolling down to the photos, he suddenly caught sight of a familiar face: Jane Foster, Selvig’s assistant. He remembered her from the strange alternate timeline and recalled her relationship to Thor. The thought gave him an idea, and for the first time since he’d lost Jaimie, he got into bed with a smile on his face. He thought of Sif and Loki, and it didn’t matter that they had never been lovers; it was enough to remember that they’d once known each other before in some way, another life or whatever it was. And the fact that she’d known elated him - she’d remembered Loki and loved him all the same, maybe partially because of the memory. 

Tom sat up. He remembered the way she looked at him after she’d slipped in the street that night, and suddenly it all made sense. He hadn’t remembered until he hit his head, the same way she’d remembered when she was afraid she would be hit by the taxi. And then she’d pursued him in a way she might never have if she hadn’t known. Tears came to his eyes, but he couldn’t explain them. This emotion wasn’t sadness or joy. He picked up the photo from his nightstand and shined his phone light on it. It was the same photo he’d stared at and cried over so many times, but now it was different. It was different because he was truly grateful, finally, for their time together. If this was the only lifetime where they loved each other, he’d relive it a thousand times. 

 _Thank you_ , he thought as he studied her face. 

The next morning, Tom grabbed the envelope of tickets again and went to the kitchen, where he found Chris helping himself to some cereal and toast.

“We’re going to this,” he said, slapping the tickets down in front of him. 

Chris leaned forward to read them and looked confused. 

“Are we?” 

“Yes, it’s in two days.” 

“I see that…” 

“Jaimie ordered them; she was really excited about it. It looks interesting.” 

Chris looked up at Tom with a skeptical disposition. 

“Come on, you’ll go, won’t you? I want to.” 

Chris laughed. “Of course, I’ll go with you. Stop freaking out.” 

Chris smiled at him and went back to eating. He had always wanted the best for Tom, the same way Thor had always seen the best in Loki even when no one else could. Without really making a decision to do so, Tom moved around the counter and hugged him. 

Chris laughed to lighten the mood as he often did and patted Tom’s back again. “I’m here for you, man.” 

“Thanks,” Tom said. 

Chris kept his promise and reluctantly accompanied Tom to the symposium two days later. 

“You know who would enjoy something like this,” Chris said as they walked into the auditorium. 

“Who?” 

“Our father!” 

“He would?” 

“Yeah, you know he likes this science stuff. Remember when we were kids he’d take us in the backyard and make us read the sundial? But we’d always look at the clock first!” 

Chris laughed as they took their seats.

“Right,” Tom said, failing to see the connection. “I think he’d be more interested in theology than astrophysics.” 

“He’s worried about you. I’m sure he’ll be asking lots of questions when I get back.” 

“Well, you know I don’t want to talk about him.” 

“I know. I’m sorry. I still wish you’d come home.” 

The words echoed through his memories from both lifetimes. He looked at Chris and almost responded, and then the lights dimmed. Tom realized, somehow for the first time, how closely his relationship with his entire family paralleled that of the alternate lifetime. 

Tom couldn’t help but imagine how it would have been to be sitting next to Jaimie. And just like that he could picture her next to him, holding his hand, leaning against him across the armrest. He idly gazed up at the auditorium ceiling. _I miss you._  

“Good evening,” said a voice from the stage. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to the third annual Astrophysics Today symposium here at New York State University.” 

“Who is _that_?” Chris said, suddenly interested, leaning forward. 

Tom drew his gaze down and immediately recognized the short brunette standing behind the podium. 

“Many of you know me, but for those who don’t, I’m Dr. Jane Foster. For the last several years, I’ve had the pleasure of working alongside Dr. Erik Selvig in his unprecedented research in theoretical astrophysics concerning thermodynamics and quantum mechanics. Say that three times fast.” 

Polite laughter from the audience. 

“Maybe you’ll enjoy yourself after all,” Tom said. 

“Dr. Jane Foster,” Chris repeated in a haughty tone, smirking. 

“The lessons I’ve learned from Dr. Selvig are as invaluable to me as his friendship. And without further ado, it’s my utmost pleasure to introduce Dr. Erik Selvig.” 

Applause. Erik replaced her at the podium. 

“Astrophysics Today,” he began. “That’s what we’re calling this symposium? Because let me tell you, today is almost over. Astrophysics tomorrow may very well see new and exciting strides. And what about astrophysics next week? Or next year? Well, we may as well still call it today, on a cosmic scale. Remember the astrophysics of yesterday, when the Earth was the center of the universe?” 

More polite laughter from the crowd. 

“The truth is, astrophysics is always evolving. And it should be. I can’t begin to fathom what this field will become in 500 years or 5,000 years. Based on our current knowledge, the natural laws of physics are consistent throughout the universe, until we get to a quantum scale. Will the ending of that sentence be different 500 years from now? Will we discover that there are actually places where physics behaves differently than it does here? Alternatively, might we discover that it is our own perception of reality and our universe that is skewed?” 

As he spoke, Tom recalled with numb detachment the horrifying things Loki had subjected Selvig to in the other life. He recalled what it was like to take control of innocent people’s minds and force them to turn against their friends without so much as a shred of guilt. His thoughts drifted then to how many times he’d taken advantage of Thor’s kindness and even tried to take his life. Sitting there in the auditorium, Tom much preferred this version of Earth, this version of Erik and Chris, and most of all, this version of himself. 

“…How is it that when we look at the stars, the world seems at once so vast and so minuscule? One hundred billion galaxies. Just in our observable universe. Humbling and oddly reassuring to consider just how insignificant we are, don’t you think? Here, on our _pale blue dot_ in the Milky Way - one galaxy, our galaxy, and I could tell you how I believe it behaves, but we don’t even really know what it looks like! And so, it’s fundamentally crucial, in the study of astrophysics, to keep in mind that what we don’t know is as important as what we do know. Maybe more important. Maybe most important. At age 87, the genius Michelangelo said _Ancora Imparo._ I am still learning. May this always be the case, today and tomorrow.”

Applause. 

The five scientists participating in the symposium came out to take their seats, and Jane returned to introduce them. Tom wondered what Jaimie would have thought of Selvig’s speech. Would he have even remembered if she had still been there? He also recognized the irony in the fact that answers about his apparent former life were probably only possible from someone like Erik, who would undoubtedly and understandably think him insane if he described his predicament. 

A reception in the ballroom across the hall followed the symposium. Chris was obviously bored and ready to leave, but Tom insisted. Inside, near the refreshments, he spotted his target: the short brunette in the lavender dress. 

“Are you sure you’re not thirsty?” Tom asked, overly casual. 

Chris glanced across the room and then gave him a look. 

“You’re not really trying to set me up with the scientist, are you?” 

“Is she over there?” Tom asked, feigning confusion. 

“I came here to see you. Not to chase American women.” 

“You ought to rethink that plan.” 

Chris rolled his eyes. 

“Call it a hunch.” 

“Can we go now?” 

“Tell me you have _zero_ interest in her and we’ll go.” 

Chris shook his head and looked back over at the refreshment table, where Jane turned as someone tapped her on the shoulder. Her eyes lit up and she embraced the second woman, smiling in surprise. 

“I…” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Chris sighed.  
  
“I’ll get us some drinks.” 

“You do that.” 

Chris shook his head again. He figured if it made Tom happy to think he was playing matchmaker, he might as well go along with it, even if his chances of impressing someone with a PhD were exceptionally slim. 

Tom watched as Chris let his natural charm go to work. He’d never had a fraction of his older brother’s charisma, and when they were younger it had often made him jealous and competitive. Moving away had been good for them, even if Chris didn’t want to admit it. Tom recalled how Sif had been interested in Thor and wished he could have asked Jaimie what it was about himself in this lifetime that had made her like him so much right from the start. He wished he could have asked her a million questions, or held her silently, or anything, or everything. _I love you, Tom_ , she had said in the bathroom that last night. _I love you, Jaimie_ , he always answered in his head when he remembered. 

Chris returned with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. 

“Feel free to gloat.” 

Tom smiled absently. “Told you so. Ready to go?” 

“Yeah. You alright?” 

Tom nodded. Chris patted his shoulder and they left. 

That night, Tom couldn’t sleep, his mind racing. He’d feel fleeting happiness one moment followed by a pang of horrible loneliness or anger or grief. Eventually he became too restless to stay in bed and quietly got dressed, grabbing Jaimie’s car keys and heading to the parking garage. Her car was still sitting where they had left it after their drive to the field, their gloves still on the floor where they’d shed them when they were soaked with snow. 

Without allowing himself time to rethink the decision, he hopped inside the car and found that it still smelled like Jaimie’s perfume. He turned his head and pressed his nose into the seat, breathing her in. He realized Chris might wake up and become confused, so he shot him a text: _Going for a drive._  

Holding his phone, he suddenly remembered that he had never responded to Hannah's email and decided to make that right. 

> _Hannah,_  
> 
> _Thank you for reaching out. I’m sorry for the late reply. I was very touched by your message. My condolences to you and your family._  
> 
> _Your sister was the single most amazing person I’ve ever met._  
> 
> _Tom_  

Snow was coming down in sheets when he’d made it out of the city, and the road they’d taken to the field was blocked, so he took a detour, not too sure where he was going. He knew it was a bad idea, a very dangerous and poor decision, but he kept driving. And when the windshield wipers bent under the weight of the snow, and the tires lost traction, he kept going. He randomly recalled Selvig’s words: _Humbling and oddly reassuring to consider just how insignificant we are, don’t you think? Here, on our pale blue dot in the Milky Way..._ He lost sight of the road and tears blurred his vision and Jaimie’s car was sliding and he turned his head and smelled the seat again.

It was clearly an accident. They would all know it was a random, awful accident. 

_I love you, Jaimie._


	4. Awake in Asgard

Sif opened her eyes. Her vision was hazy, but she could make out the ceiling above her. She recognized it as one of the rooms in the healing hall of the Asgardian palace. 

She sat up with a start. _Asgard_. The memories came flooding back. Earth. Jaimie. And then what happened before: she recalled now in perfect clarity what had previously been a mystery to her. Odin’s curse. He’d sentenced them to live one mortal lifetime on Earth. She looked to her right, where she saw Thor, still unconscious. Then to her left, Loki. _Tom_. _One lifetime_. 

“Oh no, I died,” she said in shock, her hands over her mouth. “Right there. Oh, god, no, no.” 

She thought of poor, sweet Tom finding her in his kitchen and dissolved into ugly sobbs, her head in her hands. Shaking, she scooted off her bed and stumbled over to Loki. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, gripping the fabric of his sleeve, her tears falling on his chest, “I didn’t want to leave you. I’m _sorry_.” 

She wept and embraced him, her brow on his chest, tears soaking his shirt. 

Healers rushed to her side, bringing her water and checking her for any signs of discomfort. As they did, she was overcome with dizziness and could no longer stand. The experience had taken its toll. They helped her back to her bed to examine her, where she laid silently while tears still streamed down her face. 

Later that evening, she sat idly by Loki’s side, her face dry and his shirt still damp. Reality had set in and she knew there was no way to predict how soon he might awaken. Fandral appeared in the doorway. 

“I take it the Allfather was right,” he said, stepping over to her. 

She looked up at him, not taking his meaning. 

“He said a lifetime as a mortal would change you. It looks so.” 

She looked back at Loki and gave no answer. 

“Did the two of you meet?” 

“Yes,” she replied, studying Loki’s face. “We were happy together. Until I ruined it.” 

Fandral studied her for a moment. Her nose and eyes were still pink from crying, and her fingers were draped over Loki’s. It was an odd sight, but he passed no judgement. 

“You should get some rest.” 

“Haven’t I slept long enough?” 

“He has to wake up eventually, Lady Sif.” 

“You don’t understand,” she sighed. “I’ve been awake for less than a day and it already feels like a dream. It’s fading. The memories are there, but the emotions… I’m losing it. Like it wasn’t real.” 

“Well, speaking truly--” 

Sif glared him out of the room. 

She continued to visit Loki for the next few days. She’d sit beside him and stroke his arm for a while and think of Tom. Sometimes she’d even apply oil to his dry lips when the healers came by. And then she stopped stroking his arm. And her visits grew shorter. Her life in Asgard came back to her with too much ease. There were no real surprises or adjustments, like she’d slept the length of a normal night. Things that had seemed fantastic when Jaimie recalled them were mere facts of existence. Worse yet, activities that had brought her great joy now invoked a nagging emptiness within her that initially made her angry and then disillusioned and numb. She was lethargic in training and distracted with her friends, as if a haze were following her wherever she went. When she began to feel the same numbness upon visiting Loki, she had to stop altogether. She asked to be informed the moment he awoke, since she knew he’d need to see her. 

Five days after Sif awoke, Loki opened his eyes. Sif hesitated when they told her, trying to prepare herself for his mindset. She found him sitting up looking understandably dazed as a few of the healers assessed him. Her heart thumped as she stepped closer, and when he caught sight of her, he was immediately standing and his arms were around her, Tom’s tears pouring out of his eyes. She froze, and then reminded herself of how awful it had been when she woke up and reached up to stroke his back. 

“You’re back,” she said softly. 

Loki looked her in the eyes and held her face in his hands. 

“You’ll feel like yourself soon,” she added. 

Some of the brightness faded from his face as he took her meaning, and he withdrew his hands. 

“It’s so good to see you again,” he offered. 

“It’s good to see you, too,” she said. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

With that, she stepped out. It pained Loki to watch her her go. He desperately wished she’d stay and talk about everything that had happened. But Sif was gone. 

The next day, he found her looking over one of the balconies and joined her. 

“Refreshing the memory of the view?” 

“Not really. Feels like I never left. You know?” 

He gave a slight nod. 

“Did you see Thor before you woke?” she asked. 

“Yes, actually. I took him to that symposium, and he even met Jane Foster.” 

“Hmm. Then maybe it’s better if he never wakes up,” she said bitterly. 

He looked her over in surprise. 

“Do you mean that?” 

“Of course I do,” she said, facing him. “I didn’t want to die! Jaimie was so happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. And now it’s just been ripped away.” 

Sif's anger flared when she thought about all they'd left behind, so she had been trying to push it from her mind. 

“You would go back,” he half-asked. 

“Wouldn’t you?” she asked, defensive. 

“In a heartbeat,” he said softly. 

“Jaimie’s love for Tom was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. And now I’m empty, like there’s a void in my soul. I hate that the Allfather forced us into that and then took it away.” 

“Sif,” he touched her shoulder, “You speak of a void, of lost happiness. What’s to stop us from finding that here?” 

Sif gave him a look.

“Looking at me now, do you feel a fraction of what Tom felt for Jaimie?” 

“More than a fraction," he insisted, shaking his head. "I look at you and see what I should have always seen.” 

She shook her head and turned away. 

“I’m sorry, Loki, I know it’s still fresh for you. But I can’t. It’s not there anymore. I can’t.” 

Again, Loki watched her go. After she’d gone, he looked out across Asgard, painted with the yellow glow of the setting sun. 

Sif hated the sympathetic eyes on her as she traversed the hallways. People she’d known her whole life looked at her as if they didn’t recognize her, as if she were some fragile, injured bird. She imagined sending vases and pots crashing to the floor, but she knew that if she did, no one would get angry. Instead, she laid her fists into a leather punching bag until most others were asleep.

Later that night, she was walking through the corridor back to her private room, absently gazing out at the stars -- the Asgardian night sky she had once found so breathtaking. Suddenly, the view began to change around her. The palace seemed to melt away to reveal a different skyline. Looking in every direction, she began to recognize the scene: the rooftop of The Jane in New York. 

“Loki?” she asked, turning around, but there was no answer. 

She looked down and saw that she was dressed as Jaimie. She stood alone on the rooftop amongst the red sofas. Instead of midnight, it was dusk, with the sunset creating a radiant palette of warm hues on the horizon. 

“You said you’d go back. I can take you anytime you like,” said Loki, appearing as Tom as he stepped into view. 

Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked him over. She had not cried since the day she woke.

“It’s beautiful, Loki, but we’re not them.” 

“Are we not? You said Jaimie loved Tom,” he said, stepping closer. “But you knew our true identities the whole time. I know you did. And yet you loved me all the same.” 

“I loved Tom. He was a genuinely good, beautiful person.” 

“And you see none of him in me.” 

“Do _you_? Maybe I’ve never really known you. Maybe Tom was the best part of you. But can you find it there, now?” 

“Yes,” he pleaded, “Don’t you see? It changed me.” 

She managed to politely scoff. 

“I know it did. When I remembered this life--” 

“You remembered, too?” she interrupted, suddenly curious. 

“I did. Not too long after you were gone.” 

“How did you die?” 

“I’m not sure. Frozen, probably,” he said with a shrug. “Oddly fitting.” 

She wanted to ask him what happened, but she didn't want the answer. She shook her head, her face in her hands. 

“This is too much, Loki, please stop.” 

“Sif--” 

“Please take it away!” 

There was a pause before he spoke again. 

“It’s gone.” 

She opened her eyes and they were back in the corridor, no illusions. 

“I wish logic or cleverness could bring it back,” she said. “But it’s like a light that’s gone out.” 

She could see the disappointment Loki tried to conceal. They were both silent for a moment, and he started to leave. 

“How did Jaimie die? I never understood.” 

He turned back, realizing that her death must have been as confusing to her as it was to him at first. 

“Your heart stopped. They said you had a condition. The medics couldn’t help you.” 

“Poor Tom,” she said softly, shaking her head, her tears flowing.

“Did I ruin his life?”

He looked her over with pity, blinking his now rosy eyelids.

“No,” he said, knowing she knew the answer. “But I can see he's ruined yours.”

This time, Loki turned to leave and Sif watched him go.

 _She doesn’t deserve this burden_ , he thought as his feet carried him away from her. And then he stopped. He had an idea. It was an extremely risky, bad idea that he immediately committed to before continuing on.


	5. Gods and Monsters

As evening fell in Asgard, Sif was in the dining hall with her friends when Fandral approached them and walked straight to her. 

“If you care to know, Loki has returned from Vanaheim.” 

“Vanaheim? What was he doing in Vanaheim?” 

She hadn't seen him in days, since he'd tried the New York illusion, but she didn't know he had left the realm. 

“Apparently,” he said, addressing the group, “he thought it wise to face a Massiloth alone.” 

Sif assumed she’d misheard him. Volstagg laughed through a full mouth and made himself cough. 

“Is his head intact?” he said, still chortling. 

“Was it ever?” another at the table replied, and Volstagg roared with laughter again. 

Fandral shrugged at Sif and then joined them at the table, pouring himself some wine. 

Sif tried to wrap her head around what she’d just heard. A Massiloth was a formidable predator, nearly half the size of the dining hall, with thick scale plates on its face and down its back that made it nearly impenetrable to attack. No one could survive a bite from its fangs, nor a strike from its long, bulbed tail that bore quills sharp as knives. On top of all that, it was a cave-dwelling creature with terrible eyesight, rendering an illusion trick useless against it. It bewildered her to think that he'd faced one alone. She turned to Fandral and almost asked where Loki was, and then realized the answer was plainly obvious. She gulped the rest of the wine from her cup and left the table, heading for the healing chamber. 

It wasn’t difficult to locate him when she could hear him cry out before she entered. She found him in a private trauma chamber atop the room’s single bed, his shirt removed, with a healer extracting a quill from his breast as he writhed and yelled in pain. 

“What were you thinking? Do you have a death wish?” she asked, approaching him. 

Loki had nearly a dozen long, dark quills puncturing the side of his chest near his shoulder where the bulb had caught him, and blood ran down his arm and over the side of the bed. He was profoundly lucky that was the extent of it. Sif watched the healer yank out another quill and Loki cried out again through clenched teeth. 

“Stop,” Sif said. “You aren’t doing that right.” 

She leaned over and took the end of one of the quills between her fingers and squeezed it, massaging it. 

“To do it properly, you must relax the barbs,” she explained. 

Sif knew that Massiloth quills were smooth on the tail and became barbed once embedded in someone’s flesh. This made them especially difficult and painful to remove, since the stiff barbs would shred the surrounding tissue. What many didn’t know, though, is that the barbs could be “tricked” into retracting before removal. 

After a moment, she pulled the quill and it came out smooth, unlike the first two. Loki let out just a small flinch this time. Sif glanced at the healer and then came around to that side of the bed. 

“How do you know that?” Loki winced. 

“A severed Massiloth tail makes a rather formidable weapon in battle,” she mused, removing a second smooth quill. 

The healer started to take over again, but Sif shook her head and she retreated. 

“Wielded one myself once,” she continued. “It was a gift. I saw twenty men twice my size piss themselves at the sight of it.” She laughed. 

Loki had to laugh a little, too. 

“Numbers and strategy,” he muttered. 

“What?” 

“Ahh!” 

The quill she had tugged hadn’t come out like the others. She worked it out by rocking it from side to side, and Loki clenched his teeth. 

“I’m sorry,” she said after she had it out, resting her hand on his chest. “Sometimes the barbs are stubborn.” 

Loki watched her quietly as she removed another quill. She leaned over his wound, intent on making sure he felt as little pain as possible. He moved his good arm up to his chest and took her hand in his. 

“Almost finished,” she said, mistaking his grasp for seeking comfort. 

She worked out three remaining quills. 

“There.” 

The healer came around and applied a powder to staunch the bleeding. After it settled, she took a salve from the shelf and approached him again. 

“Let me,” said Sif. 

Loki’s vision went briefly blurry with relief as she gently rubbed the salve over the puncture marks and it immediately dulled his pain. 

“Now,” she said as the healer started to affix a bandage. “Are you going to tell me what the hell you were doing out there?” 

Having secured the cloth bandage with adhesive tape, the healer left the room to give them privacy to speak. 

Loki reached into his pocket and produced a small vial of clear, foamy liquid. Sif took it and Loki saw something like horrified recognition cross her face. She suddenly understood. The Massiloth’s saliva was said to contain a powerful chemical that could erase painful memories. Biologically, this served the purpose of setting caught prey at ease in its great jaw. Medicinally, it was generally only appealing to someone who had been through unimaginably gruesome events, such as torture or a terrible illness. 

“You want to forget,” she said, a sad half-question. “You want to forget everything?” 

It stunned her to think he had gone to such great lengths to remove their Earth lifetime from his memory, though she felt she could hardly blame him. 

Loki shook his head. “It’s not for me.” 

Sif stared at him. 

“I know this is making you miserable. You deserve to be happy again,” he explained. 

She blinked, stunned again. 

“And you’d take none for yourself,” she asked, doubtful. 

“No.” 

She looked at the vile and then her eyes went wide. 

“Because you’ve already had some?” 

“No! I need those memories.” 

“You expect me to believe you have no intention of using this toxin?” 

He clenched his teeth in frustration.

“I will not take any. I’ll never forget. I can’t forget.”

“Why not?” she asked, disguising her interest as skepticism. 

He sighed in exasperation and sat up on the bed. 

“Before I died there, I decided that if losing you was a punishment, I deserved it. Ten times over. I still know that’s true. But you don’t deserve this burden, Sif. Take it, drink it, and get on living. It’s for you.” 

His words poured out in an earnest, breathy plea. Sif had seen his blood flowing from his chest, and now he’d handed her his heart. 

“I regret that I must tell you your quest was in vain,” she answered, confounded by his words. “I won’t drink it.” 

“Why cling to something that fills you with regret and sorrow?” 

“I regret that I died, but I don’t wish to lose those memories. They’re all beautiful for me.” 

Loki studied her face for a moment and his expression shifted. 

“I knew you’d refuse," he said, glancing down. "I’ve already had Fandral add some to your wine before you came here. It’s done.” 

“What?” 

Sif recalled with horror how she'd finished her drink before hurrying to the healing chamber. 

“How could you? How could you take it from me - from us?” 

He gave no answer. 

“Loki, you clever fool,” she spat, tears dripping down her face. “I may be happier in time, but I never wanted this. I never wanted to lose it.” She shook her head. “And you… You’ve lost me forever, and it’s your fault.” 

“I lose you every day, Sif. I don’t enjoy watching you suffer. Now that you’ll be at peace, so will I.” 

Sif growled with frustration, her hands on her head. She tossed the vile across the room. 

“How could you? How could you take this from me?” she repeated. 

“ _You’ve_ already lost it, Sif! You said yourself we could never find it here. You said you hated the Allfather for sending us there, did you not? You mourn as I did, but you can have your life back now.” 

“But I don’t want it! I don’t want to go back to before I knew you!” 

“Why _not_?” he demanded. 

She spun around and came hastily toward him, looking him in the eyes. 

“I loved Tom more than I’ve ever loved anyone. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known. Don’t you see? I was angry at the Allfather, but more than that I’m grateful.” 

“Why should you be grateful for a burden?” he asked softly, his heart pounding.

“Because,” she shook her head, searching for words, “because it’s not a burden... It’s a gift.” 

Loki was quiet. Sif touched his cheek. 

“Loki, I’m sorry. I should not have turned my shoulder to you. I was afraid. I was afraid it would be too different here. I never wanted to forget us.” 

More tears dripped down her face. She looked into the blue of his eyes and could see Tom, fleetingly there, looking back at her. Loki responded to her sadness by smirking. 

“What are you--” 

Realization hit her and she took a step back. 

“There was nothing in my wine.” 

“No.” 

She shoved his good shoulder and he chuckled. She couldn’t help but laugh with relief. And then his smirk made her consider the extent of all she’d said. 

“Did you really go through all that so I would…” 

He blinked, pretending to consider the question. 

“I think it was worth it,” he said casually. 

She tried to give him a look but was overtaken by relief and embraced him, too tight. He winced and she started to ease off, but his arms encircled her and he held her tighter. 

“What if I had taken it?” she asked, looking at him again. 

“I’d have let you go. I do want you to be happy.” 

Sif was stunned again by his selflessness. He hadn’t lied about changing. She kissed him and found that Loki's touch was far from empty. She had buried her love for him so deeply that she'd lost sight of it, but it was still there. In his arms, she could feel how much he had missed her and kissed him the way Jaimie had kissed Tom. Loki held her face in his hands for a moment, his forehead to hers, neither speaking. 

Since the trauma had weakened him, she helped him upstairs to his chamber. When they arrived in his room, he turned to her and kissed her again. 

“You should rest,” she said. 

He glanced over at the bed, then back at her. “Will you stay?” 

“Always,” she said, her voice soft and earnest. 

He knew it was a promise more than an answer. Another kiss, and this time he gripped the fabric of her shirt, her hands on his bare arms. When she looked again, he’d taken on the illusion of Tom. 

“Loki,” she laughed, confused. 

She touched his cheek, looked over Tom’s sweet face one final time, and then shook her head. 

“Come back to me.” 

She kissed him again and he was back to himself. His hands were on her hips and she found that her body blushed at his touch in a way she had dearly missed. She ran a hand through his raven locks and gave herself to him as his arms encircled her body. 

They made love in Loki’s bed, and when he was in her it was both new and old, his lips on her neck were electrifying and comforting, her warm breath on his ear gave him chills. He moved in her with a steady rhythm, cradling her body as he panted and rocked his hips. He opened himself up to the love that had ripped him apart before when he’d lost it, and when he found it there in full, he met her skin with his lips over and over, tasting her, loving her, his breath trembling. 

Sif pressed her face to his good shoulder, holding onto him, breathing in quiet gasps. There wasn’t the same carnal urgency there had been with Tom, but it didn’t matter. The strength of their bond washed over her and brought with it a warm, peaceful joy. As she loved him with every thread of her being, she imagined their frayed souls being woven together into one glistening circle, finally whole.

When he saw her face again, Loki realized Sif’s eyelids were rosy pink and kissed her temple. She smiled up at him and his heart sang to see her happy.

“Do you feel it?” she asked in a whisper, looking into his eyes.

“Always have,” he replied, fainter still.

“Thank you,” she said softly, touching his face. And then her eyes were closed, her cheek to his cheek. “Thank you.”


	6. Epilogue

Stepping into their shared chamber in the palace, Sif found Loki looking over the balcony in the bright midday sun. 

“Where have you been?” he demanded, turning to her. 

She was surprised at his tone. 

“The healing chambers?” 

“You visited him again, didn’t you?” 

She gave him an incredulous, almost amused look. 

“Yes, I visited him. Thor is your brother and my friend. Exactly what do you accuse me of?” 

Loki sighed and sank into one of the cushioned benches on the balcony. 

“I got you more salve,” she said, showing him the jar. 

His wound was still giving him pain due to splintering from the barbs, though it had been several days. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at the ground. 

Sif touched his shoulder. 

“What are you afraid of?” she gently asked. 

He looked up at her. 

“I know I don’t deserve you.” 

“And _yet_.” 

She smirked down at him. Something always stirred in her when she saw how humble he had become. He was no longer the entitled, arrogant worm he’d been after getting a taste of the throne. But he still had his issues with trust. When she thought back on their life as mortals, she could see echoes of the same in Tom. She kissed his head and he leaned into her, embracing her waist, his head against her stomach. 

“You have me, Loki,” she insisted, running her fingers over his hair. “You saw to that.” 

Loki rose from the bench and kissed her. 

“I love you,” he said frankly. 

“And I love you. I’m yours.” 

Months passed before Thor awoke. When they received word that he had returned, they stood in stunned silence and then chose to wait near the healing chambers, so that he might come to them if he wished. 

When Thor had recovered enough to leave the healing chamber, he spotted their silhouettes across the way near one of the hall’s stone columns, sharing a loving embrace against the sunset. 

“I am glad to return and find you well,” he said, approaching them. 

“We’re happy to see you, too,” said Sif, turning to him. “Did you ever remember this life?” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head and looking out over the Asgardian landscape. “I never did. Jane and I had grandchildren by the time I passed.” 

They were both stunned again. 

“If I return to Earth now, she’ll know nothing of that life.” 

“I didn’t know when I encouraged you to meet her,” Loki offered. 

“I am grateful you did,” Thor nodded, and glancing down, noticed the way Sif’s fingers entwined Loki’s. 

“What will you do?” Sif asked. 

“I will return to her. How can I not?” 

She smiled. 

“It brings me great joy to see the two of you together again,” Thor said. 

He touched each of their shoulders before turning to go. They watched him depart and then Sif turned to look up at Loki. 

“Do you think we would have grown old together?” she asked softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. 

Loki looked down at her and studied her face in the golden glow of the setting sun. 

“I believe we still can.” 

He kissed her, and as she held onto him, she believed it, too. 


End file.
